


independent people

by peaktotheocean



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cat Roach (The Witcher), Divorced Geralt and Yennefer, F/M, Insecure Jaskier | Dandelion, M/M, Misunderstandings, Multi, OT3, Professor Jaskier | Dandelion, Student Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, artist geralt, ot3 endgame
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:08:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29201847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peaktotheocean/pseuds/peaktotheocean
Summary: "I want to help because it feels as though I'm being useful,"Jaskier didn't say aloud."So that my partners won't want to leave me even once I've done what they needed,"he also didn't follow up with, keeping his thoughts to himself."They'll notice how brilliant I am and want to keep me around. Not as a fixer but as a lover, a partner, someone to hold so that I can feel the same comfort I've been giving.""Maybe instead of too much, I can be just enough for them."Julian, Jaskier, and Professor Pankratz through three sets of eyes as partners and a family comes together
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 11
Kudos: 73





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [inspired by one of my favorite ot3 tumblr posts ](https://geraskefer.tumblr.com/post/618929108330708992)

Yennefer hadn't spent the entire yoga instructional watching the only man in the studio but he had certainly attracted quite a bit of her attention. It wasn't just _her_ eyes wandering either. 

A young, attractive man who was secure enough to wear fitted yoga pants and throw himself into the highest tier of stretches? Well, either he was queer or a catch or both.

Still, he was the odd man out in a session full of women. Not that he had let it bother him. He hadn't seen to really notice at all. Or at least he hadn't given the indication that he was interested in anything other than the class instructor at the head of the room.

It wasn't until after the class had ended that Yennefer watched him slowly become aware of his surroundings. He was clever enough not to jump back from the outstretched hands offering him a hand or trying to steer him a certain direction.

 _Prey can sense predators_ , Yennefer thought as the man smoothly took his mat in both of his hands and excused himself in Polish.

His admirers’ eyes dimmed almost instantly but Yennefer saw victory in his. He emphasized his endearing confusion, hand gestures extremely apologetic and expression gracious but when they realized he couldn’t understand or at least communicate with them, some of the interest was lost. 

Not all of the women but the man was careful enough to keep his distance from the rest.

 _"How do they think you're able to follow the instructions if you can't understand English?"_ Yennefer asked him in near flawless Polish, coming up along his side. The remaining interested women looked at her and frowned, one of them muttered as they exited the studio.

The man covered his surprise quickly, his expression easily morphing into an honest, almost bashful smile. Yennefer felt herself becoming unexpectedly charmed and she tamped that reaction down.

" _Perhaps I'm just really paying attention to the instructor's form_ ," he offered with a wink. Yennefer watched his body language still, he held himself so carefully, not offering her anymore than her one comment warranted. 

It was frustratingly respectful. She wasn't sure how to respond to that so instead, she didn't. Letting the ball remain firmly in his court.

"I thought it'd be all seniors," he admitted to her in English as the crowd had mostly left. "It's the middle of day on a Monday. I thought the worst I'd have to deal with was old ladies attempting to set me up with grandchildren."

Yennefer gave a harsh laugh. "You're in the wrong part of town. These women have nothing better to do."

"And you? Do you have nothing better to do?" He came back quickly. Yennefer wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of an easy answer and surprisingly, he seemed to know it. “ _I_ certainly don’t. Well, I suppose I could be grading. A professor,” he added for her benefit even though Yennefer knew her expression hadn’t been the least bit curious. “No classes or office hours Monday afternoons.”

“Julian," he offered, squeezing his yoga mat under his arm in order to offer her a handshake. 

“Julek?” Yennefer guessed, letting her accent slip through, and was rewarded with a smile. 

She felt her phone buzzing and instinctively looked down, expecting to see a company number. It wasn't the project notification she had been expecting but she was pleased to see that Julian was still smiling at her as though she hadn't looked away from him at all.

“Partner?” He asked, eyebrow raised.

“Ex-husband," she told him without a hint of shame, still watching his expression. It still hadn't changed. Perhaps she was off the mark and he was just polite as opposed to interested in her. 

She responded to Geralt quickly. However amicable their relationship was during the current season, Yennefer was a little too distracted with work and whatever the hell was going on with the man standing a meter away from her to focus on her ex unless it was Ciri-related. 

"I have to get back to the office." She decided, slipping her shoes back on without having to lean down to pull up the heel.

"And after the office?" Julian asked, matching her casual tone, even if there was a slight hopefulness towards the end of his question.

Yennefer slid one of her business cards out of the back of her phone case and handed it to him. 

“We’ll see.” 

He held it between two fingers and the smile he gave her wasn't prideful or smug. Julian didn't look as though he had won but rather, just excited to be playing at all.

Well, if nothing else, Yennefer had had worse first impressions in the past. 

Julian watched her carefully. She didn't love that and narrowed her eyes at him. It didn't seem to deter him. Rather the opposite. The smile on his face settled into a delicate one. Not an expression that frustrated Yenn at all, unlike most men who had attempted to ask her out over the years. He had a strange, respectful patience that almost reminded her of Geralt.

“I’ll wait and hope then." was all he offered before nodding his head at her and leaving. 

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••

  
The door swinging closed was loud enough for Geralt to hear in his vacant gallery. When she was younger, all Ciri wanted was to put a bell on the door so he could "hear it on the potty, Papa!" but fifteen years later, Geralt was pleased he never gave in to that particular request. Mostly for the noise he would have to deal with every day but also for the puppy dog eyes his daughter would have given him when he had tried and most likely failed in uninstalling it. Sure, she was at university now, but her facial expressions were more effective than ever.

"All right, Essi, it's fine. Truly, no worries. I'm here now. What's the piece look like again?" 

Geralt looked up from the desk to see a lean man in skinny jeans and a purple paisley button-down was writing notes on the palm of his hand with a pen that looked as though it had barely survived being put through the wash. He had barely taken a step into the gallery which meant he wasn't close enough for Geralt to glare at him and point to his "no cell phones" sign.

"Got it, got it." He nodded again even though the person he was speaking to on his cell phone couldn't see him. And had apparently hung up, given the man's incredulous look at a phone screen that had returned to its home setting instead of an in-progress phone call background. 

Geralt watched as the scribbling continued. Certainly there wasn't that much room left on his hand for such copious note-taking.

Even for an artist, Geralt usually dealt with art dealers and personal brokers who were less...colorful. It matched the aesthetic of his shop, the majority of stock, especially his own artwork, contained silver and inky black tones, whether by virtue of the steel he sculpted with or the paint on wide canvases that covered the walls.

"Broker?" Geralt grunted.

"No, sorry." The man's bashful tone didn't quite match with the fact that he wasn't vacating the premises after being confronted. "Are you only closed to appointments?" He asked curiously, looking around for any indication that was the case. Geralt noticed, with satisfaction, that he did see "no cell phones" poster and somehow shoved his mobile back into the front pocket of his tight pants.

"No, we're open," Geralt said slowly. "I heard you on the phone. There's no reason to lie."

"Oh. That." The gentleman waved it off. "That was my friend. She already bought the piece. I'm here to look at it and decide for her where it goes."

Hmm. Geralt stood up a little taller. "An interior designer, then?"

The man's facial expressions continued their downward turn. "A friend."

"Oh."

He took pity on Geralt. "A friend with a good eye who lives close by," he admitted. "Better to decide where a piece of art is going first than having someone move it again."

"Practical." Geralt approved. Normally it wasn't a friend deciding where a piece should go but still, he appreciated the foresight. It helped him to hope that his art would be well-taken care of in its new home. 

"She tries.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow. “You don’t?”

The man looked at him and Geralt felt victory in getting some of that smile back. “Depends on the situation.” He let himself gaze over Geralt quite thoroughly. The artist found himself not minding the examination. It wasn't as though he wasn't doing the same to the man's tight trousers. "Anyway, she called ahead. You should have all my contact info already on your calendar for today, I'm sure. Under a Jaskier."

“You’re kidding me. Jaskier?” Geralt huffed. Of course. He had resisted the urge to ask the question when the request had come in.

“You don’t like it?”

“Polish?" Geralt wanted to satisfy his own curiosity. All he managed was a nod but no further explanation. "What does it mean?”

Jaskier smirked at him and Geralt felt a lurch in his stomach that he hadn't experienced in years. Not meanly or taunting but in a smooth, hopeful tone, Jaskier suggested, “How about you find out and tell me next time we see one another.”

"It's--" Geralt cleared his throat before thinking better of his first idea at an answer. "All right."

  
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••

  
"Come in!" Professor Pankratz called over his shoulder after hearing a knock at his office door. "Do come sit down. I'll just be a moment. Trying to--" he grunted and crawled went even further under his desk, something that Ciri didn't think was possible considering how close it was to the wall.

"I got it!" He shouted triumphantly, head reappearing and, impressively, not hitting the underside of the desk when he finally stood all the way up. The professor grinned at her and held out a book that looked like it was last re-bound in the previous millennium and desperately needed attention. It also appeared to be about botany but Ciri couldn't confirm that because the title wasn't in English. She was only guessing on account of the embroidered cover that showed a variety of flowers. 

This was strange mostly because she was here to meet with her music professor. 

Still, the room was covered in sheets of paper, mostly music, from what Ciri could see. There were a few instruments around too, both on the desk and hanging on the free wall space that wasn't taken over by mis-matched bookshelves. It was comical but she had to give him some kind of credit: she was definitely in the arts building. And the one space that wasn't occupied by chaos was the chair meant for students in front of his desk.

"You're my three o'clock, yes?" Professor Pankratz asked her politely, brushing any potential dust out of his hair. He set the book on his desk, right next to his laptop and sat down. "Miss Riannon?" He not-so-subtly checked a post-it next that was stuck to the screen of the laptop.

She nodded, still wondering if this whole thing had been a misunderstanding.

"All right then. How can I help you given that it's only the first week of the semester." He squinted at her. "I'm sorry, have you even been in any of my classes yet? I try to remember at least faces to give myself some kind of head-start before absolutely not following through on names."

"No, not yet. I'm in Thursday afternoons."

"All right then." The professor still seemed affable if not a little confused. "What seems to the be the problem then?"

“I hate music,” Ciri blurted out, wasting no time. It had been building up since she had gotten her schedule and the long walk from her dorm to the arts building hadn't helped matters. “My dad had me take piano lessons when I was younger and the old lady quit. I can't play an instrument. I don't know how to read music. We have to take this creative credit and I just--”

"Whoa, all right, slow down please. Everything is fine," he promised. Not wanting to ramble again, and a little bit embarrassed, Ciri stayed quiet. She reached out and touched the embroidered flowers on the cover of the old book that was about to fall forward off the professor's desk. "And you don't want to switch to art?" Pankratz double-checked.

“The only thing I’m worse at than music is art," Ciri grumbled. He smiled at her, not patronizing or pitying, but almost camaraderie. He didn't seemed worried nor did he seem as though he was about to wave away her fears. She leaned back in the chair, just a little bit.

“Between you and I, the creativity credit definition is rather narrow,” Professor Pankratz confided in her. He rummaged through his desk and slid a piece of paper across to her. “Go on, it’s the syllabus. I won’t make you sing, you’ll not have to write a song or learn an instrument.”

Ciri took the paper and examined it week by week as the professor kept talking.

“You do like music in general, yes?”

“I do.”

“Then you’ll be fine.”

Ciri narrowed her eyes at him and the professor, teasing her, matched her for eyebrow furrow. “It can’t be that easy.”

“That is last semester’s syllabus." He leaned forward over his desk to tap the paper that she still held in her hands. "The only thing that has changed is that I switched to the newer editions of one of the texts. I’m also thinking about a concert component,” he added, “But I don’t think I’ll be able to get my shit together in time. Plus there’s transportation and costs. Even if I say I’ll foot the bill myself, I don’t want to leave out any students who might be averse to any too loud or tight-quartered situations, you know?” 

She looked up from the syllabus long enough to blink at him. Perhaps she shouldn't have been worried about her own rambling.

"Right, sorry." Professor Pankratz waved his hand. "Look at that and think it over. You've got another week to decide but if you'd like to ask some of my past students, I'd be happy to give you their contact information." Ciri went to agree and the professor beamed at her before she could verbally get anything out. Then, as she suspected was his On™ function, he kept talking. "I've been attempting to petition them to widen the parameters of creativity credit, I mean for pity’s sake— everything is art, when you think about it! But I need a few more people on my side. And perhaps few more publications to my name before anyone in academia unfortunately takes me seriously."

He got up from his desk and ran his fingers over the strings of the guitar that sat precariously balanced on a few well-placed textbook piles.

"You'd think they'd accept recording credits in the music world as publishing ones in the academic world but unfortunately that's not the case."

Ciri wasn't sure what to say to that but the way the professor was already distracted by a pile of papers across the room, she began to think that it didn't require a response at all. "Um. Thanks, professor."

He looked back at her and for a moment, Ciri would have bet money that he had forgotten that she was there. But the Professor's smile was almost too much and she wanted if this was what her father felt whenever he got overwhelmed when dealing with anyone. 

"Of course, Miss Riannon," he told her sincerely.

“Cirilla is fine”. 

"Cirilla then."


	2. Chapter 2

Professor Pankratz's class was listed on the schedule as being in a section of the arts building that Ciri hadn't even known existed. But judging by the professor's lateness and the suspicious look on his face, he hadn't aware of it either nor was he happy about the situation.

The classroom was sub-level which meant the few windows it had were barely eight inches in height. They couldn't even make up for that with their extreme length as they ran along the top of two of the walls and let almost zero light in. The desks were old and bolted to plastic chairs. All right-handed, Ciri noticed. The lights were all working but that wasn't really a blessing considering the yellowed tones and buzzing. Even with the rave reviews Ciri had gotten about the professor's past classes, the man couldn't make fluorescent lights sound like music. 

Regardless of his haste, Professor Pankratz still treated the guitar slung around a shoulder with the utmost care. As the bag on his other shoulder flapped around and hit the decades-old green chalk board, his guitar, even in its case, was lovingly set leaning against the desk.

He put on a pleasant mask once he realized he had nearly two dozen students mostly sitting in chairs but the frown came back as soon as he saw the clock on the wall above the door wasn't even functioning.

"I realize that perhaps this isn't the most auspicious beginning,” Professor Pankratz started delicately, earning a just one broken-off giggle from his audience, “but fear not. Sometimes even beautiful compositions begin with a slow and worrying rumble."

There was little to no reaction from the rest of the class. Ciri wasn't the only one with a fear of music and art. Sure, the professor's score on the popular teacher rating site was positive but the reviews were vague. Though the page had also him listed as X-Tremely Hot but Ciri didn’t find that very useful when it came to academics. She was willing to guess her fellow first years felt the same way. 

Pankratz passed a stack of papers to the student sitting in the front row closest to him and asked her to pass it around. Two others took advantage of the set-up to go up to the front desk that now only held a worn leather messenger bag. Ciri listened with somewhat justified relief as the professor give two more students the same assurances she had been given back in his office. 

"Come, come. Sit down and I promise," he told them seriously, "that by the time I go through the syllabus, your fears will have been assuaged and then we can really get started."

There was still silence. The few students who had been hovering instead of sitting, wondering if the classroom assignment had been a grave error, didn’t move towards the rickety desks.

"Very well." Professor Pankratz looped his messenger bag back around his shoulder and beckoned the class forward. "Some things can't be helped and this space will not do for us. Perhaps on a week when it rains or becomes truly cold, we will make our way back into this classroom." He gestured towards the door. 

Finally realizing that their new professor was being serious, there was a scraping of metal chair stubs against linoleum as the class rushed to obey.

"I'll petition for a better space. This simply won't do and certainly the new business building has one of their fancy lecture halls free." 

That sounded appealing. Ciri had yet to be in the newest building on campus. Freshman lecture courses were relegated to the science building instead which she supposed worked well enough but each pair of seats had a microscope between them. Presumably this was to share with a partner but as Ciri had English Comp 101 in the room, the equipment was more in the way than anything else.

"That's not to say that room won't be useful, perhaps for our class during Halloween week! We could dig into haunting sounds and music throughout history in a most appropriate manner." 

That managed to wring a few chuckles which seemed to bolster the professor's confidence a little more. He waved them on to follow him out to the quad. They pattered after him like a confused group of ducklings, a few looking around them as though someone was going to demand they go back to the basement classroom.

Professor Pankratz had no such issue. He halted them at the top of the hill and gestured around him so they formed a lop-sided half circle while facing him. His smile as he sat down on the ground, placing his guitar on the grass next to him, was miles better than it had been in that basement.

"I know this seems a little Sound of Music now with the guitar on a hill but bear with me. I promised you all you wouldn't have to sing at all and I meant it..."

  
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••

  
Geralt's phone buzzed but he already knew what it was going to be about. The same reminder alert went off every Wednesday for his weekly calls with his father. 

Years ago, Vesemir had insisted phone calls once a week with each of his sons. As teenagers, Geralt and his brothers had all grumbled about it but as adults, Geralt had found himself looking forward to it. He knew Eskel and Lambert enjoyed it too, having a spot in the schedule just for them and their father, even if Lambert did sometimes have to reschedule depending on his shifts. 

On the opposite end of the spectrum, Geralt planned his work around the phone call. The unshakeable event in his calendar was a centering act in an often busy sea of client appointments and artistic inspiration. Especially when Ciri had been younger and Yennefer was traveling on business trips after their separation. Talking to Vesemir hit the reset button for Geralt and let him finish the back half of the week with ease. 

This week though, Geralt was ready. Somewhat ready, at least. He wouldn't have to fall back on updates about Ciri or let Vesemir take the reins in the conversation. He had a question ready and could already anticipate his father's questions. It felt good to have that kind of structure that he created himself even if he didn't necessarily know where it was going.

"The word 'Jaskier' is Polish, right?" 

He could hear his father humming on the other end of the line. Vesemir was used to Geralt's ways with non sequiturs. Similarly, Geralt knew that his family would ask for context without issue if they wanted or needed it. 

"Yes, it means buttercup."

"The flowers?" Geralt hummed right back. Seemed fitting that Jaskier would mean a kind of flower. He wasn't sure about buttercups but that was all right. Maybe Jaskier would tell him if Geralt asked. 

If Geralt called. 

He was going to call, he was nearly sure. But Jaskier had told him to figure out his name first and that's what Geralt was doing. He liked knowing the steps.

It was a twofold success in that case. Geralt did what Jaskier had suggested and now he would have a conversation opener the next time he spoke to the man.

"Yes, the little yellow flowers. Is there a reason you're asking?"

"It's the name of a...client's friend. I thought it sounded a familiar when he introduced himself."

Vesemir's warm chuckle over the line had Geralt wishing he could take a weekend and visit the ranch. He wouldn't want to leave Ciri out though. He'd have to check her schedule for the semester. Perhaps there was a long weekend she could take and they'd bth be able to go out.

"Well, you boys managed the language well enough but I'm not surprised that the floral vocabulary didn't stick. I'm willing to bet you could still remember the translation for every animal we had around the house."

"Those would be good odds for you."

"And this friend. You're seeing him again?"

Geralt looked at the planner on his desk. It was so close to the following month that normally he would memorize the last few days and then turn the page to get a head start on thinking of future appointments. He hadn't though. Jaskier's name and contact information weren't on October's page, they were near smack-dab in the middle of September. 

If he called Jaskier and made plans with him, then the man's name could be somewhere on one of the little squares for October. Maybe more than one square.

"I think so."

"Well, how about I get started on cooking dinner and let you go so you can call him."

Logically, Geralt knew that Vesemir couldn't read his mind. But his father knew him well enough that it sometimes seemed that way. He didn't mind, most of the time.

"Yes, all right."

"Are you sure?"

Geralt appreciated the double-checking. He was already thinking about what to say to Jaskier. What he wanted to ask and how to go about doing it. 

"I'm sure."

"All right, Geralt. Give my love to Ciri."

"I will, Dad."

Geralt placed his phone on the desk and looked at Jaskier's number again. He had the time now, especially since Vesemir had cut their weekly call slightly short. Even without that, he had an hour before his next appointment. Not that he wanted to talk to Jaskier for only a short amount of time but it would still be a good amount to decompress after two phone calls in a row.

He had to make the second call before doing anything else. The squishy end of his pen tapped against the number one more time before Geralt used the same end to press the numbers into his mobile phone. 

"Is this Jaskier?"

"It is." 

"Buttercup?" Geralt guessed. 

He heard the other man make a pleased noise, even through the terrible connection. "Geralt! I'm so pleased you called." 

Geralt wasn't sure what to say to that. He was also pleased that he called Jaskier. He was pleased that Jaskier was pleased that he was pleased. He couldn't say that, could he? He didn't get a chance anyway. Thankfully, Jaskier had decided the ball had been firmly handed over to him.

"I was just thinking about you. Are you free Friday night by any chance?"

Geralt felt himself freeze. He hadn't been on a date in years. Since Yennefer. He was grateful that Jaskier couldn't see his face. He had known this was coming. Hoped. But still, to have it actually happen was an entirely different beast.

He took a deep breath. This was something he could do. He had asked Vesemir and thought about Jaskier for more than a few days before calling. He wanted to see the man again, and not just in Geralt's space, which was a brave thought he hadn't had in years.

"Friday sounds great."

He was excited to flip the calendar to October.

  
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••

  
Whatever flat space in Julian's apartment wasn't occupied by instruments that Yennefer didn't recognize had piles of CDs, sheet music, and books. Julian swore to her when she first entered that he had an organizational system but Yennefer refused to believe that. It was impossible.

“Surely, you are not a real person,” Yennefer murmured under her breath, catching sight of a medieval lute set atop his kitchen table. 

Julian tried to hold back a flinch at the comment. It wasn’t the first time he had heard it. He knew it wouldn’t be the last. The sex was a nice consolation prize to whatever comments thrown at him. He at least could tell it wasn't said to be cruel. He was almost positive.

“Like that man in _101 Dalmatians_ ,” Yennefer continued. "The animated one."

He blinked at her. That was a new comparison. He didn't mind it, if he was being honest. He always found Roger's cluttered attic office as some kind of an inspiration. Clearly it had come through in his lack of interior design expertise.

“You’ve seen that?” He asked, intrigued.

“I have a daughter,” Yennefer said as though she was reminding him about this fact even though she had never told him in the first place.

"Do you, really?" His first instinct was that he couldn't picture Yennefer as a mother but that really wasn't true and he wanted to chastise himself. An exquisite mama bear if he ever met one, fierce and a provider. 

"It's complicated."

"Like most things," Julian said amenably, willing to drop the subject. It wasn't his place. He didn't know Yennefer too well but he could confidently assume inquiring about her personal life wouldn't end well for him. "I'm sure you threatened more than one teacher in your time. And they deserved it," he added at her disapproving look.

"She's a student at university now."

"Oh, lovely. Mine? I regret the teacher threatening comment already."

"Which is yours again?" Yennefer asked sweetly in a tone that meant Julian wasn't going to get the answer.

"Hmph. Nevermind then. Best if I don't know anyway. Favoritism and all that."

"Or whatever the opposite of that is."

Yennefer didn't seem annoyed that they were poking into a little past her veil but Julian didn't want to push his luck. He enjoyed their time together. It felt earned and full and who knows how much longer he'd have it. He graciously broke their eye contact and rolled himself out of bed to head to the kitchen table, where the lute had just caught Yennefer's attention.

"I would _never,_ " Julian stressed. "Not even after her mother took a full week to call me back after we shared a perfectly lovely evening and then showed up, demanding to be let into my apartment." 

"With dinner. You're welcome, by the way."

"I do so love crab rangoons." He plucked up the wax bag and held it out to her, offering the last one. If Julian had to guess, her unimpressed eyebrows were regarding their opposite opinions of munching in bed. Fair enough. More for him. 

The glass of water he offered next was taken though. He went to get himself one and debated digging into the remaining eggrolls too. The night so far had taken...quite a bit of his energy. Julian figured he could either start in on another helping for another round or--

“Are you interested in staying the night?" He asked in a tone that aimed for nonchalant and missed by a mile.

Yennefer looked at him in a way he would have considered sharp if only she had been quick about it. Still, the expression was there and he slowly held up his hands even though it meant leaning all his weight back against his rickety kitchen table and hoping it didn't break on him.

“I only ask because I assume you’ve seen the weather forecast. They seem to think the rains will be torrential. I don’t want you to be trapped here if you haven’t made the choice ahead of time. I could call you a car,” he offered, wishing he had put his trousers back on before bringing it up. Yennefer had a way of making him feel particularly vulnerable with just the raise of an eyebrow. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy it but perhaps the “real person” comment from earlier had gotten to him more than he had originally thought. He needed some kind of shield even it was in the form of flannel lounge pants.

“I’ll go.” She watched his face carefully but he gave nothing away. “Wouldn’t mind doing this again at some point. Still casual,” Yennefer tacked on, faster than she’d care to admit.

“Of course.”

  
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••

  
Jaskier spotted him first but Geralt managed to see him bouncing his way soon enough. He couldn't help but smile and Jaskier liked that, beaming as he came to a stop.

"I'm glad you called," he said honestly. Jaskier wasn't too sure where Geralt's thoughts were but he wanted to make sure the man knew how truly thrilled he was to have picked up the phone and heard his voice on the other end. 

"I'm glad my father answered my question about the Polish language."

"Didn't want to google?" He asked cheekily.

"Felt like cheating."

Jaskier's face grew a little pink at that admission and Geralt seemed to warm to it. He liked that he had been worth the effort to ask Geralt's father. Surely his father hadn't just translated it without asking questions. He was willing to bet there had to be a bit of teasing and still that hadn't stopped Geralt from calling him.

"Well, I hope this date is a nice reward."

Geralt shifted, ever so slightly and Jaskier felt his heart skip a beat or two. That was all right. He could work with that. 

"This outing," Jaskier corrected, backtracking. He tried to alter his view of the situation into his own mind. So Geralt had asked his father and presumably the man had asked why. But still not a date. Fair enough. 

Geralt, bless him, still looked a little nervous. Jaskier couldn't have that. He was determined for this to go well even if it wasn't a date. He was already doing casual. He could do it again if necessary. Maybe he could work his way up the ladder. Again. 

Even if that wasn't in the cards, he still liked Geralt. He was determined that the man be comfortable around him.

"There's no pressure," he insisted in an easy voice, moving a step closer but making sure not to box Geralt in. "We're just two handsome people out on the town."

"Calling yourself handsome?" Geralt said after a few quiet seconds. He even raised an eyebrow. It was a good joke, if one said with a little trepidation. Jaskier would take it for now. Besides, he knew how to raise his eyebrows too.

"Are you calling me unattractive?" 

"I'm not...I'm really not." Geralt's smile made a reappearance now. Baby steps. "Is this the bar you mentioned?" He could already hear music coming from inside of it. How was that even possible with a large wooden door shut in front.

Jaskier grunted as he went to pull open the thick door. It wasn't just a bar but moreso a live venue that just happened to sell liquor. 

Geralt's eyes widened slightly and darted looking from Jaskier to the door to the stage where two large speakers were set up on opposite ends. He didn't make a move to go in. Jaskier bit his lip. Geralt _had_ agreed to the bar. And the show along with it. Perhaps he thought it was going to an acoustic set. Something more akin to a coffee bar. 

"We don't have to go," Jaskier offered. "It's just that my friend, Essi, you know, the one who bought one of your pieces. She's playing in town and I just thought well, she loved your art, perhaps you might love hers as well." He was still holding open the door and he knew at some point, the bartender was going to shout at him but it was still warm for October. It's not as though Jaskier was messing with the HVAC system. He didn't want to the door to shut. He wanted it to be Geralt's decision.

There was the slightest of head shakes and Geralt twisted one of his feet away from Jaskier and bar door. Just like that, he let the door shut, muffling the music to something incoherent once again.

Geralt didn't have time to even pretend to want to stay. Jaskier had already taken a few steps down the street. When Geralt didn't follow, he came back.

"May I?" He asked, gesturing towards Geralt.

He didn't seem to be entirely sure of what Jaskier was asking but Geralt nodded yes regardless. Jaskier looped an arm around Geralt's waist and directed him around, away from the bar.

"But. Your friend?" Geralt asked, quiet and worried.

Jaskier waved his free hand in an attempt to assuage Geralt's protests. "I've heard her play dozens of time before. I've been up there on that very stage playing with her before. She likes to try out new songs here."

"You've played with her? I thought you were a professor."

"A music professor. Which means I've got knowledge of too many instruments. Essi knows this and loves to take advantage of. In a nice, compensating-my-friend-for-his-time way, don't worry. She's a real sweetheart."

A music professor. Geralt added that to the growing list of things he knew about Jaskier.

_Musician._   
_Professor._   
_Polish._   
_Owned many button-downed shirts. Looked good in them._   
_Kind._

“It was a nice idea,” Geralt offered honestly. He was a little surprised to realize that he wasn’t lying. It helped that Jaskier didn't seem too put out by the change of plans. It was only the first week of October but Geralt used the excuse of the chilly night to pull Jaskier closer to him. He almost wished he hadn't been prepared and worn a jacket so he'd be able to better feel Jaskier's warmth.

“Not to worry, I have a back-up plan,” Jaskier assured him. Of course he did. 

"Could you write down a few of her songs? I'd still like to listen to them."

Jaskier slowed his walk down to look at Geralt. He was being completely serious.

"I can make you a playlist on Spotify if you'd like. Or--" he guessed. "A mix CD."

"A CD would be best," Geralt admitted sheepishly. He didn't seem embarrassed though. He let his hip bump into Jaskier's and his date took that as a sign to tighten the arm that was around his waist. 

"I could also probably provide an eight-track. If you give me a month, I might be able to get you a record." Jaskier winked at him. 

"Your friend's contacts?"

"Only if that's a fancy phrase for friend-who-owes-me-a-favor."

By the time they were seated at a dimly-lit pub a few blocks over, Jaskier had gotten Geralt comfortable enough to engage in personal conversations with less time between each response. He was still thoughtful about his responses but he wasn't self-conscious about them. Jaskier counted that as a win even if some questions took longer than others. 

"So your father knows Polish?"

"He supposedly taught my brothers and I. It didn't really stick."

"Evidently." Jaskier winked at him. He eyed Geralt's fries. He couldn't imagine that would go over well. He should have gotten a spare order. There were never enough fries on the plate for him. 

"He tried to teach my daughter too. She took to it a little better but he's the only one she can practice with, really besides--" Geralt cut himself off and Jaskier caught the slip-up. A partner, no longer in the picture for whatever reason. Sure. He tucked that information in the back of his mind and moved right along.

"You have a daughter?" Jaskier encouraged.

"Yes." Geralt smiled just at the thought of his daughter and well, wasn't that just a sight. "She lives with me. Well, when she's not at school. Which she is now, I mean. At school. Her first semester at college."

That could explain some of the nervousness. If Geralt had been single-parenting all this time and his only kid was at college, who knew when the last time the man had gotten laid. Or it could just be Geralt.

 _Or all of the above_.

"I think you're doing a great job."

Geralt huffed and reached to take another sip of his beer. "You don't even know her."

"Yes but I'm learning about you so I think I'm allowed to make some kind of informed judgements," Jaskier insisted with such a positive attitude that Geralt felt foolish and self-conscious for his huff. 

"What about you?" He asked, mostly to turn the tables again. Jaskier liked to talk, that much Geralt figured out early on but he liked to ask questions and listen too. 

"No children. Many many students though. I realize it's not the same but I do still have to deal with occasional tears and guilt. That's more than enough for me."

"Not even pets?"

Jaskier's face fell. "I don't think I"m home enough. I think about it a lot but when I'm not teaching, sometimes I travel to help out friends with songs or shows. Perhaps one day but I've been saying that for quite some time." He perked up then and Geralt knew what was coming. "Do you have pets? Surely your daughter convinced you at some point. I can just see it."

Geralt averted his eyes, already reaching for his phone. Jaskier was right, of course he was. He had already learned that Geralt grew up on a farm and his family spoke to each other weekly. There was no way the man could have gotten away with not pairing a pet with his daughter unless there was an additional allergy situation. 

Geralt held out his phone to Jaskier who legitimately squealed at the sight of a fluffy cat curled up into a little ball on his lap. Instead of flinching away at the loud sound, Geralt found himself smiling. Jaskier didn't exactly snatch his phone out of his hands but he did make grabby hands so elaborate that Geralt couldn't help but hand it over.

"Her name is Roach."

"Of course it is. I bet there's a story there too." There was but instead of waiting for Geralt to start talking, Jaskier offered a second option. "Maybe you could tell me the next time we hang out?"

There was a silent emphasis on the phrasing that flew under Geralt's radar enough that he didn't react at all to the implication.

"I'd like that. This was nice. It _is_ nice."

Jaskier wasn't sure if Geralt meant that the restaurant was quiet as opposed to the bar. Or the outing itself. He hoped he was referring to both. Geralt hadn't just up and left. He had laughed, seemingly genuinely, at Jaskier's jokes. He couldn't decide between playing it off as a quip or playing it safe. He liked Geralt. He didn't want to scare him off. Not after this success of a night.

"Few people can resist a proper pub burger."

"Good thing that I'm not one of them." Geralt pushed his plate, with his remaining fries, closer to the middle of the table. He took another one and then gestured for Jaskier to do the same.

"Glad to hear it." Jaskier winked at him, taking a fry and dipping it into the messy pile of ketchup on his own plate. 

"Come back to mine after this," Geralt said without thinking. Jaskier's sharp smile was all the answer needed.

  
••••••••••••••••••••••••••• 

  
Yennefer lifted up her phone when it buzzed, letting herself smile in her empty office when she saw it was from Julian.

He had clearly snapped the photo the night prior, unless he was eating a full dinner at 8am. She wouldn't put it past him but still, highly doubtful.

She had only had a muffin for breakfast and the sight of a juicy burger with a side of fries had her mouth watering for something more substantial. 

' _New restaurant_ ,' the text said simply. ' _Not sure how you feel about pub burgers but we could do takeaway for them next time you're around_.'

' _Extra fries_.' Yennefer typed back.

' _A woman after my own heart_.'

_'They're for me to go with my eggs the morning after. Not for sharing.'_

She hadn't stayed over at Julian's yet. Still, she was tempted and he seemed...not eager. That wasn't the right word. He was open to it, definitely. And he seemed more than clear on their arrangement. Even in the handful of weeks they had been seeing one another, he hadn't pushed or even seemed inclined to, so she was willing to tease.

Perhaps a trial run would be in order. No matter what, at least she'd hopefully get a great meal and fuck out of it.

  
••••••••••••••••••••••••••• 

  
"A great meal and a great fuck," she quietly said aloud to herself two mornings later as she watched a nude Julian dangerously fry up some eggs to lay out atop of their leftover fries.


	3. Chapter 3

Professor Pankratz poked his head into the room and grinned delightedly when he saw the majority of the class in attendance. Perhaps not all sitting down in separate desks or at all but this was a required freshman general education course he could only ask for so much.

"Ah, I am so glad some of you remembered to check your email. Or perhaps it's more than that. Maybe you saw the rain and thought, ah yes, professor is going to want us back in that terrible classroom again."

Then he disappeared out the door again. Before anyone could follow him out into the hallway, he reappeared, both hands on the handle of a large flat-bed cart, 98% of which was still outside the classroom.

He huffed and yanked the cart fully through the doorway. Ciri wasn't sure how he got it even into the building. It was nearly as wide as the door and the ramp to the arts building wasn't exactly what she'd call "standard." The cart looked like it belonged more in a freight elevator.

It was also stacked high with black cases of all shapes and sizes. Like a disaster of a Jenga game that was just waiting for the opportunity to tumble to the floor. Ciri was shocked that the Professor had even made it all this way without any of them dropping.

"Either way, the circumstances are fortuitous because these are not items I want out in the rain." He patted the cases proudly.

One of the students raised their hand and sounded nervous when he asked, "I thought you said you weren't going to make us learn an instrument?"

There was some murmuring through the classroom but again, Professor Pankratz held up his hands to quiet them. 

"And I stand by that. This session isn't about learning anything about instruments at all. It's about vibrations." The student didn't seem convinced. Neither was Ciri if she was being honest. 

She'd seen instruments before, obviously. But never up close. She had certainly never held one or tried to coax a sound from it. Or even vibrations like the professor had said. 

"If you do happen to learn anything or magically become proficient, you have my most sincere apologies and a half letter grade bump." 

That seemed to lighten the mood a bit. It would have to be enough because the professor was already calling them up to the front of the classroom in order to pick a case. Ciri went for a smaller rectangular one and was surprised to find that the outside was soft instead of harder like the others.

"Every mouth piece has been sanitized courtesy of me earlier today," the professor announced as students continued to choose instruments. "If you're still not comfortable, I brought the cleaner with me as well. If you want to swap instruments after trying one, then please, dear god, use the cleaner. Most of you are already living in the dorms, I'd like to give you somewhat of a fighting chance when it comes to not contracting any illnesses."

One of the girls who was also in Ciri's English Comp class took the largest instrument, hefting it in both hands as the professor looked on like a proud parent. Surely not all these instruments belonged to the professor. He had to have borrowed them or maybe even the school had rented them or had them lying around somewhere in a storage room.

"Ah, we also have..." The professor trailed off as he looked through the tote bag that was hanging off the one of the cart's handles. "Ear plugs!" He said excitedly. "If you need them, they're here." 

He set a pile of disposable ear plugs on the desk, each pair wrapped in their own plastic bag. A few students eagerly came up and snatched them. Ciri couldn't imagine this room would be very good for acoustics. Perhaps it wasn't the worst idea.

"Even if you feel as though you don't need ear plugs, I did bring enough for everyone because sometimes that is the best way to feel the vibrations! Music isn't just for your ears!"

In Ciri's opinion, none of the noises coming out of instruments around her were really fit for anyone's ears.

"Feel the vibrations. How you're in charge of the sound and feel. You can stop and start it so easily and it's affecting the entire instrument, regardless of what it's made from. Perhaps it's easiest to see the strings on a guitar and feel the vibration through the wood but even the brass instruments--" Professor Pankratz pursed his own lips exaggeratedly and blew a raspberry in the air. "Your lips are doing the vibrating! It's an important element!"

Ciri laid down the case on the slanted desk before going to unzip it. Even though the case itself was rectangular, inside was a ukulele with natural red wood for the body. Her fingers hovered over the four strings and Ciri felt an unexpected eagerness. 

She picked it up and tried to imitate every music video she had ever seen of someone holding a ukulele for real or Professor Pankratz holding a guitar during one of their previous classes. Surely the posture couldn't be too far off. It was just a miniature guitar right?

"Remember, feel the vibrations!" Professor Pankratz called from the front of the classroom. Ciri was regretting not picking up earplugs. 

Plucking was a surefire way for her to see and feel the vibrations of the thickest string at the top of the instrument. But she strummed softly too and even though it sounded terrible to her ears, Ciri could feel the clashing vibrations struggling against each other. 

She focused on the thickest string against, mesmerized by the texture on the wire and how it felt. She went to pluck it again and snapped, making a terrible noise and curling up to one side of the instrument.

God, she couldn't be trusted around any instrument. Ciri knew her cheeks were bright red and this was not how she wanted to day to go. Her hands tightened around the instrument but she will them to ease their grip so that she wouldn't break anything else.

It was a small blessing that the rest of the class were focused on their own monstrous experimental tunes that the professor was alone at his desk. Granted, he was staring out at the classroom as though he was the proud parent of two dozen Frankstein's monsters, none which had any musical talent.  
  
Ciri held out the ukulele, biting her lip. "I broke a string," she told him, trying but surely failing not to sound completely miserable.

To her surprise, he perked up. "Oh, that's all right!" The professor assured her. "It's part of playing an instrument!"

"Really?" She asked suspiciously.

"I swear. One of your classmates keeps dropping a large brass euphonium so I promise a string a nothing. I go through dozens a week when I'm writing something new. It's sort of nice in a way."

"Nice?" Ciri looked down at the broken string. Maybe in a modern or abstract art kind of sense. She took a photo of it to send to her father. "But how? It's broken."

"I guess, in a less literal sense." Professor Pankratz cradled the ukulele gently in his lap and if Ciri didn't know better, she'd think he was caressing the instrument. "It's easily fixable, you see. And by doing so, you get to hold the instrument in a different way. You use the new string and adjust the others again so they're all harmonious together. It's...relaxing."

She watched him wind a new string around the pins down at the bridge of ukulele. She could understand his logic a bit as she followed his movements but they were also well-practiced. "You get to reset."

"Exactly!" He stopped fiddling with the tuning pegs and held it out in front of him. "Perfect. Would you like to try another instrument? We still have a few left."

Ciri already had her hands out to take hold of the ukulele. "No, I want to stick with it."

  
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••

  
Geralt's preferences for a working environment changed depending on his mood and the piece he was working on. Sometimes he would listen to Eskel on speaker phone describing the farm down to the details he knew his brother missed. Sometimes music or audiobooks if his brain could handle and appreciate the background noise. Most days though it was just the scrape of his tools against wood, metal, plastic, whatever he had gotten his hands on. 

Never Jaskier though. He hadn't intended for Jaskier to become part of his routine but he had answered the phone call while in the workshop and well--

Here they were. 

"I've been arguing with the dean about this ever since I was an adjunct which I know isn't the best way to make friends but if I'm not advocating for students then why am I even there to begin with, you know?"

"Mmmm."

"Ugh! Exactly! So I wrote up another proposal today but it'll have to wait. Midterms just ended for the students but that means the grading only just started for me. I should be done by Friday though if you're free." Jaskier took a breath and Geralt put down chip carving knife. He moved the phone closer to him, making enough noise so Jaskier still knew he was there. 

The professor noticed things about Geralt and Geralt was working lifting up his own observation skills to return the favor. Or at least being louder— or just _more_ — so it would be less work on Jaskier's part. 

“Doesn’t have to be a date. I don’t mind just a casual—“

“A date would be fine,” Geralt cut in before Jaskier could talk himself in a circle. "After all, I have to tell you the story of Roach, right?"

Jaskier sighed. He sounded relieved, happy even. Geralt picked up his chip carving knife again and let Jaskier keep talking.

When Ciri was younger, the two of them had lived in an apartment: one bedroom for Geralt and a pull out couch for Ciri. One day, with a sleepy two year old against Geralt's shoulder, the veterinarian next door mentioned in passing that she had just did a check-up on a litter of kittens who were looking for a home. 

Naturally Ciri wanted the runt and of course the smallest kitten out of the four had grown up to be the largest with a personality to match. At the time, Geralt hadn't been able to help himself. They had been so close to getting out of that apartment. Ciri was going to have her own bedroom. There was going to be a guest bedroom. His brothers or even his dad could stay over without staying in the bed with Geralt or on the floor. 

That wasn't the story Geralt told Jaskier on Friday though. 

He wanted to. 

He came very close. 

Geralt had mentioned the neighbor and not being able to say no to his daughter. Jaskier wasn't a mind reader but he managed a fair shake at watching Geralt to the point where it did make the artist wonder. 

Geralt didn't mind though. He'd want to tell Jaskier about it in more detail one day. About how big Ciri’s eyes had gotten when Geralt placed her in the foyer in their house. How she had held tight to the growing kitten as she took her first steps into the home Geralt still lived in to this day. 

He wasn't worried about wasting the one surefire topic he knew was on the agenda for talking about. He trusted that Jaskier would pull another conversation starter out of him. Besides, Jaskier had them going to a natural history museum that evening. Surely there would be loads of things for them to point at and discuss. 

"Well, of course. She's your daughter. Little kids and pets go hand in hand in mischief-making, I'd imagine."

"You're not wrong." Geralt followed Jaskier up the stairs but reached out quickly to beat him to the door. He pulled it open and gestured Jaskier to go through, feeling a little glimmer of pride when his date looked surprised but pleased. "Go ahead." 

_His date_. Geralt thought to himself again. He didn’t have a nervous reaction to the word this time. He wanted to cling to it even if they were still casual. 

"It's not just the museum tonight," Jaskier explained as they waited in line for tickets. "They pulled out loads of things from storage. I thought it would be interesting to see."

"Members night,” Geralt read off the sign. “You're a member?" He perked his head up to peer at Jaskier. His date, Jaskier, who was looked fabulous as well. Put together in a way that really only clothes would be able to say about a person. Straight pants that appeared to be a dark green and a turquoise shirt that was unbuttoned enough at the top that Geralt scratched one hand at his own jeans. His fingers remembered holding onto that chest hair quite well. With any luck, they'd have the pleasure again.

"Oh yes. I've been so for years. Two of my friends work in development in the offices here and I found myself visiting so often that it just seemed worth it."

"They didn't want to let you in for free?"

"We support the arts here, Geralt," Jaskier said, attempting a stern tone but it ended in a short laugh that Geralt wished he could record. "Besides, the fancy events are pretty fun. It's all behind the scenes. I know they've got some art collections here. You could critique their storage habits if nothing else." 

A half hour later and Geralt had yet to see any art with the exception of large scientific illustration prints mounted onto the exhibit walls. That was fine with him though. Jaskier was right. It was fun. Not too loud, different tables featuring certain specimens, demonstrations, and according to the map Jaskier was squinting at, one of them even had live animals.

"Jaskier? Who's this? A new man."

Before Geralt could freeze or panic about answering, Jaskier cut in smoothly, “Just a friend. Geralt here is an artist with a gallery and I thought he’d enjoy the behind-the-scenes aspect of the night.”

Jaskier always thought Geralt would enjoy something very specific yet somehow right up his alley. It was sweet in a way. Though on occasion, it had Geralt feeling a little inadequate. He was casually seeing someone who seemed to be putting a lot of effort into their evenings out and all Geralt managed was remembering that Jaskier had an allergy when ordering takeout. 

"Nice to meet you. I'm Thomas." The scientist stuck out his hand and Geralt found himself taking it. “Lovely to have someone here for the exhibits and not just the booze. These events can bring in such wild cards.”

"Don't give me that look."

"You were drunk and talking to the wolf behind the diorama glass."

"I promised him that I'd get him out," Jaskier told Geralt casually, "That he was the best boy and deserved to be free."

"And you didn't kick him out?" Geralt asked Thomas, delighting in Jaskier's insulted gasp. Jaskier reached over Thomas' demonstration table and flicked the lanyard that proudly declared he was an employee of the museum. When he rocked back on his heels and came in line with Geralt again, Jaskier dropped his hand right at the right height for Geralt to take. And Geralt did.

"Well, he wasn't going to break the glass. It was more tearful worrying than potentially destructive."

“Classic Drunk Jaskier™,” he confided in Geralt, squeezing his hand. Geralt liked the smile on Jaskier's face. He knew it wasn't just because of the story he was telling his friend. It had appeared when Geralt had taken his hand. Geralt had done that. He had put that happiness on Jaskier's face.

"Your partners had to drag you away. I think they even took pictures for Essi. She's the one to ask about any embarrassing photos," Thomas whispered conspiratorially and Jaskier's cheeks went red. "I'll get back to work. Enjoy the rest of the event."

Geralt rather liked a blush on Jaskier. even if he was still focused on one word of Thomas' first sentence. 

_Partners_. Plural. 

Jaskier tugged Geralt's hand and was already moving towards to another hall where, with any luck, the animals were making those strange noises.

Geralt thought about the comment as he let Jaskier lead him away. Jaskier was not with partners anymore. He was with Geralt. And they weren't dating. Because Geralt had said no. A date, yes. But dating, no. 

One thing at a time. 

He let Jaskier put a drink in his hand but noticed it was just water. Jaskier was drinking water too. He had an alcoholic drink when they had first entered the museum. So had Geralt. At some point, they had both switched to water. Geralt knew that was his preference certainly. He wondered if he had influenced Jaskier. 

Intoxicated people were, unsurprisingly, not high on Geralt's list of favorite things. They were loud with no boundaries. Still, he couldn't help but wonder if Jaskier's earnestness would increase along with his tipsiness. Perhaps he'd be loud but Jaskier sang and hummed near half of everything that came out of his mouth anyhow. 

Geralt liked the sound of Jaskier's voice. 

Right now, Jaskier was too quiet. His stare was too obviously focused on the grad student in front of them who was holding a hedgehog. 

Maybe too focused. Geralt thought about Jaskier's flush face and Thomas' comment and thought better of bringing it up again. Jaskier was with him now, not his past partners. He wouldn't be asking Jaskier's friend for any photographs. Not if they caused a quiet Jaskier. 

"Perhaps I'll get to meet him one day."

"Meet who?"

"Drunk Jaskier."

Jaskier's hand tightened around his for a split-second but the smile on his face didn't betray anything except for being pleased with Geralt's comment.

"You better watch him. The sugar in the drinks are more his downfall than the alcohol content."

  
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••

  
"What about next week's schedule?" Julian murmured. He looked mournfully at the blanket at the end of the bed. He would have to move ever so slightly for it to be within his reach to pull it over them. Yennefer nudged him and he made an effort to stretch, snagging his fingers on it right before he flopped back down next to her.

"It's the official start date of my new division within the company." Yennefer took the one side of the blanket and tucked it around her other side. She let her arm drop around Julian so he was resting on top of her.

"The department of badass people who will kickass and take names for the good of the community?"

"The partners division for pro bono work within minority communities."

"I said that."

"Do you have any interest in a gala?" Yennefer didn't wait for him to speak but instead, kept talking out of feelings she'd never admit were nerves. "The company is throwing one to celebrate. And well, seek donations. We can dress you up and you can have as many crab puffs as you can handle without making yourself ill."

"You don't have to tempt me with food." She could tell he had held back on saying something sweet. Sometimes Yennefer hated when Julian looked her in the eyes because she really felt seen. It wasn't. She didn't _hate_ it exactly. That was perhaps the wrong wording. He just saw her in such an overwhelming way that Yennefer wasn't entirely sure what to do with it. 

"And you can just say you want to see me in a tux. I could rent one and really spin that waffle maker in style in the mornings."

Thank fuck. Yennefer would have regretted the invite if Julian had told her something ridiculously affectionate. 

It was bad enough she had brought it up after sex. It was as close to a confession as she had ever gotten. Julian broke their eye contact with ease but Yennefer still felt as though he did it as a favor to her. He took the opportunity to settle even closer to her, eyes closed and head resting on above her breast. 

"I'd be honored to be your arm candy," Julian murmured, eyes still shut.

"No complaints from anyone else vying for your hand?"

Yennefer watched carefully as Julian frowned. He looked-- sad-- almost. When he opened his eyes, there was something there that Yennefer couldn't quite decipher. She regretted the comment. He had been so gracious with her question and she had to double-check herself. Even before she opened her mouth, she already regretted the second thing.

“This doesn’t mean we’re dating.” 

There was a moment's pause before his quiet response. 

“You don’t have to keep reminding me,” Julian said kindly enough that Yennefer felt the smallest pit of guilt begin to bloom in her stomach. 

Kind was the way to describe Julian, wasn't it? He hadn't yet given Yennefer a reason to distrust him. Fuck, Yennefer hadn't envisioned her ten years at the company and overseeing a whole new division like this. Yennefer thought she’d be with Geralt, not drunk enough for this conversation, sleeping in the spare room at his place. 

Instead Yennefer was wrapped around a man who sometimes softly spoke to her in Polish before she came and had taken all of her trepidation with more ease than she would have had their positions been reversed. He hadn't demanded anything of her, had only missed a yoga class when a student had requested extra help, and still gave her such a genuine smile whenever she came into view that Yennefer wasn't sure what to do about it. 

The worst part was that he didn't expect anything. Or at least hadn't made her feel like he did.

It wasn't a conversation they had yet. 

Yennefer knew there were no such thing as perfect partners. Not that they were partners. But they worked well as things stood now. 

But there was still something was she missing and it was taking all of her strength not to search Julian and then pick at the uncovered scab. To wonder if there was an end to his generosity in a relationship. She tamped that feeling down, getting nauseous for even thinking about it. It wasn't who she wanted to be.

Julian shook his head anyway, oblivious to how she had already guessed his response. 

“I apologize. You can keep doing so if it comforts you but I promise this is all on your terms.” He looked as though he was doing some heavy thinking and Yennefer waited. 

She didn't want to break the silence but she also wanted to hear what he was going to say next. Both could be true. 

"Would it help if I told you I’m also casually seeing another person?" Julian asked delicately. "Safely, of course. And I can confirm that for you if you’d like. It’s not an issue," he added firmly.

Yennefer smirked but settled. There was another person. But still, casual like her. Like she had insisted upon.

She trusted Julian. Or Julek, as she occasional called him when she wanted to catch him off his guard. Not with with many things of course but more than she had trusted other hookups prior to their arrangement. With something like _this_ at any rate. “You’d make your other side piece get a test just for me?” 

“I already asked him to get one.” Julian shrugged. "Seemed safer that way."

“Him?” 

“Mmm.” He waggled his eyebrows. It was infuriatingly attractive. Without waiting for an answer, he got up and went through to the pile of paperwork on his disaster of a kitchen table that Yennefer tried her best to ignore whenever it was in her peripheral vision.

She wished he hadn't put on pants so quickly but after their first foray into a serious conversation in the nude, she could see why. Julian was like her, he liked his armor when he could get it. Yennefer could respect that, not to mention understand it. It just made her even more curious about his past but she couldn't ask about it yet, not unless they were going to really make this into a relationship. They owed each other basic decency at this point.

Julian quit rummaging through his papers and held out a paper for Yennefer to view. Whoever this guy was, he cleared the standard STD panel just as Julian had done.

He had covered the name but Yennefer still saw the height and weight. “Oh?” 

“Oh,” Julian confirmed with a wink. “He is...strong,” he sighed dreamily, a hint of humor and exaggeration in his tone, folding up the paper and placing it back within the mounds on the desk 

“He’s not the only one,” Yennefer said sweetly, waiting until he was back in her reach and pulled him back into bed. She took Julian’s wrists in one hand and pushing them up over his head. 

He hadn’t anticipated Yennefer taking that as a challenge and taking up the rest of the night but Julian certainly wasn’t arguing with the results. 


End file.
